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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23764633">Buffet Results</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/castiels_angel/pseuds/castiels_angel'>castiels_angel</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Belly, Buffet food, F/M, Fart, Stuffing, gassy - Freeform, glutton - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 18:01:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>812</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23764633</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/castiels_angel/pseuds/castiels_angel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Flatulence after overindulging at a buffet.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Buffet Results</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For my boyfriend’s birthday, I agreed to his request: the Chinese buffet across town. I rarely went because since it was truly all you can eat, he would stuff himself so full he’d end up calling off work the next morning, due to having the shits. But he requested to go eat there and it was a Friday night. I knew he would end up drinking a couple of beers as well, probably gaining a few pounds from his birthday dinner.<br/>
He wore loose sweatpants and a favorite graphic T-shirt, another sign he planned to indulge. He wouldn’t have to unbutton his pants or feel the uncomfortable snugness in the waistband either.<br/>
Upon arriving, we prepared our first plates. We both made salads, but his was double the size of mine and topped with sunflower seeds and ranch dressing and bacon. He eagerly started eating.<br/>
Several plates later...<br/>
He returned to the table with yet another plate piled with more general tsos chicken, rice, and three more egg rolls. “I’m really starting to slow down,” he said a bit laboriously.<br/>
He had already devoured beef and broccoli, pepper stir fry, several cheese wontons, shrimp chow mein, and an egg roll count higher than my fingers.  It was a decent amount of food, but I knew he planned to eat more. He sat down, taking a long swig of soda and letting out a huge burp from the carbonation. “I needed that,” he acknowledged.<br/>
When that plate was clear, he looked back towards the buffet line and said, “I might take you up on the offer.” He was referring to my offer to baby him if (when, really) he got a belly ache from stuffing himself.<br/>
“I want you to enjoy yourself.” I could see him trying to decide if he should get more. “Bring me more cheese wontons when you go up there, please.”<br/>
That decided it for him and he retreated back to the delicious and warm food. He came back with my cheese wontons and a separate plate that was heaping full. “I’m glad they went up there. Here, try some of this. It’s crab meat with rice and veggies.”<br/>
I tried it, and gave my half hearted approval since I wasn’t a big fan of seafood. He thought it was amazing and kept eating it. I knew seafood of any type gave him flatulence. Man, he was going to be farting up a storm after the seafood, broccoli, and sweet &amp; spicy sauce he always opted for. I wondered if in some way he enjoyed the release and boldness of it all. He would always blame a long rip on the hot sauce, or the extended bathroom trip on big portions of food he ate. 
I looked up to notice him bouncing his leg. 
Finally he announced, “After all that Coke, I gotta piss like a motherfucker. I’ll be right back,” and excused himself.
I was able to catch the waiter and once my boyfriend returned, there was both a weird jello dessert and ginormous brownie with cool whip for his birthday. We split the brownie and then he worked on the jello. Spoon halfway to his mouth, he commented, “I’m about ready to pop,” as he let out a short burst of gas. 
I couldn’t wait as I already had the green light to feel up his stomach and touch him. I loved the sensitivity after he overate but sometimes he wouldn’t want me to grab onto his belly.
“Well let’s leave a tip and go,” I suggested. 
He gestured to the rest of the dessert. “Let me finish this.”

On the way home...

We got stuck in traffic,waiting on cars to be towed after an accident. He made a face and rolled the window down before saying, “That crab... oh man.”
I remembered my promise to spoil him. “Let it out,” I pleaded.
“I’ve got no choice but,” came his reply as he leaned to one side and let it rip loudly. “Man, seafood really tears my stomach up.”
Traffic was moving again now, at crawling speed. “Do you need me to pull off?” I offered, knowing he could only poop comfortably at our house.
“I have to pee but it can wait. At worst, I can use that bottle back there. Hey, take that next turn.” He began to pat his stuffed stomach, even looking overtly full. “Oh, that just about did me in.” 

At the house...
In his recliner, he soon started farting up a storm, clutching his belly. 
“You’re getting pretty gassy,” I remarked.
“I think I’m moving into pre poop farts. They’re getting pretty serious. I shouldn’t have ate all that... I’m about to pay for it.” He made his way for the bathroom. 
“This is going to be such a heavy shit. I already know it.” He pissed, passing gas twice after.</p>
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